I navigate the obstacle course of my bedroom floor, littered with piles of dirty laundry, to the tiny bathroom area. The vanity and sink are actually part of the open closet; as I check my look in the mirror, I can see my remaining clean clothes hanging behind me.

What I wear will depend on the reply. Fuck, man, please let him reply. I’m so anxious my hands are trembling when I reach for the phone. I can barely pull up my email account.

Man, I know I’m high, but there must be something else going on; it’s not like I’ve seen a pic of this guy, even. But there’s something about his ad that makes me know I want him.

Fuck, there’s an answer. Please, please, pleasepleaseplease….

“Roehampton Suites, 15th and Park. Reply when you get here and wait for directions.”

I look at the time—it’s about a quarter past eleven. I’m one block off Park and four from 15th. “OMW. Be there by 11:30.”

I know the place; I’ve had hookups there before. The entrance is locked after 10 pm. There is no real lobby, the street door leads to a glass cubicle. From it, the door on the left leads to the check-in desk, which is set so far back it can’t be seen. The door on the right leads to the guest entrance and gives access to the rooms.

He’s gonna have to come down and let me in. If I don’t like what I see, I can always leave. But I think I’m gonna like it.

But that clears up one thing—I can’t dress too much like a slut. Well, I mean, I ain’t gonna cover myself with a burka, but I can’t go full-on whore the way I’d like; this motel ain’t that kinda place.

So I find a clean simple t-shirt of thin white cotton. I’ve shrunk it slightly. My torso is smooth and slim, but the shirt is tight enough to highlight my small but firm pecs. I tuck the shirt into the tightest pair of skinny jeans I have—they’re black, with elaborate designer stitching on the rear pockets, which draws attention to the way they lovingly cradle my firm bubble butt.

I cap it off—literally—with a black ball cap worn backwards, shoved down on my head. Even so, the mirror shows unruly strands of blond hair peeking out underneath.

Just before leaving, I lace my white leather sneakers forcefully around my feet, tightening them almost painfully.

I’m ready to be used.

It actually takes me twenty minutes to get there; I missed a light because of an ambulance going through the intersection at the wrong moment. I send a reply the moment I throw my car into park; I’ve parked on the side of the building out of sight of the entrance.

His response is swift and abrupt; he’ll be at the door in exactly three minutes to let me in. I leave the car and hurry around the corner to be there in time.

Holy fuck, I’m glad I am. He’s there—it has to be him. Jesus Christ, what a fucking stud.

His short hair is dark and slightly curly—and receding slightly at the temples; a sure sign of an overabundance of testosterone. His t-shirt is tighter than mine, stretched tautly across the massive swelling of his chest muscles. It’s the same shade of electric blue as his eyes, coldly appraising me the way I’m appraising him. The cuffs of the sleeves stretch tightly across his large biceps and down the inside of his left forearms is a large tattoo of a winged skull.

His jeans are as tight as his shirt; they aren’t skinny jeans like mine because skinny jeans wouldn’t fit over the massive knots of muscles in his thighs and calves. Under the frayed denim cuffs, I can see he’s got on a pair of worn and scuffed square-toed ropers.

Did I say I could leave? I can’t leave. I have to have him. I crave his cock. I want his sperm so bad, please let him want me too, oh please…

I sigh with relief as he opens the doors and lets me in. He gives me another quick cold glance before turning silently away and striding down the brightly-lit but empty hallway. I follow, almost having to run to keep up with the pace of his long legs.

He arrives at his room and opens the door before I catch up; I manage to slip inside quickly—but realize I never caught a glimpse of the room number. Not that it matters.

The dude turns to look at me calmly. I notice the muscles bunched at the corners of his hard, frim jaw. A heavy scruff of five o’clock shadow darkens the jaw as well as his cheeks. “Well, what ya, waitin’ for, faggot? Strip!” he barks.

I comply; even if I didn’t want to obey this stud, I don’t think I could have resisted his command. There’s something about the scent coming off him—pheromones, maybe—that overrides the smell of bleach and industrial cleaning solvents in the relentlessly clean room and establishes his alpha status.

Sitting on the bed, I start with my shoes, unlacing them carefully before prying them off. The dude stands over, watching, one hand rubbing an almost frighteningly huge bulge in his crotch. He continues to rub himself as I stand up and wriggle out of my skinny jeans, so tight I almost need to peel them out of the crack of my ass.

Once free of the jeans, I jerk the shirt up and off over my head, taking my cap with it. I stand before the dominant stud, nude except for my white ankle socks, my long, thin, vein-wrapped cock standing to attention in front of me.

He smirks at me and I know what he thinks. He thinks I’m just some useless slut who wants his cock—and he’s right. I’m anxious to prove it to him.

Suddenly he reaches down and grabs the hem of his t-shirt. In a much smoother move than mine, he whips it off over his head in one swift motion, revealing his enormous pecs and six-pack abs.

There’s a dusting of dark fur across the stud’s bulging chest which darkens into a clearly-defined trail as it works its way down his firm belly and disappears below the waistband of his jeans. A long, defined ridge in the denim extends outward from his groin; as he rubs his right hand over it, the ridge extends even further.

Holy fuck, what I have I gotten myself into? I want his dick, but I’m not sure I can handle it—it’s literally that big.

But then my eyes are drawn inexorably upwards along the thick fur trail lining his belly, up past his muscular chest, glistening with sweat, his large dark nipples hard and erect like his cock, to his cold, hard, handsome face. I know I’m going to submit. No matter how much it hurts, for him, I’ll submit.

His eyes drift behind me. He grunts and looks back at me. I get it; he wants me on the bed. Without allowing my gaze to shift from his face, I slowly back towards the double bed. I stop when I feel the slick polyester comforter against the back of my calves. Gingerly, I ease my way back up onto the bed. I hadn’t paid any attention to it before; the comforter and blankets, I now realize, have been turned down and soon the thin sheets, stiff with starch, are scraping my bare, smooth asscheeks.

Feeling behind me with one arm, I manage to snag the pillows and get them placed under my head. I finally settle in on my back, my legs spread, my dick rising in front of me like a hood ornament.

I’m ready for him.

Silently, he continues to stare down at me, one hand on his groin, the other rubbing and fondling one of his nipples. I can’t tell if that faint look of contempt on his face is his natural expression or not, but it doesn’t matter. Somehow, it only seems to make him even hotter.

He unzips his fly. He has to reach in with both hands to wrest his monster hog free from the confines of his tight jeans.

Oh fuck, it’s even bigger than I thought it would be—how is that even possible? From here, it looks like a vine-wrapped fireplug. Clear beads of precum glint on the swollen purple head.

A lump forms in my throat; I have trouble swallowing. I cast my eyes downward as I gulp, only to find my gaze pulled irresistibly upwards. His thick-soled ropers planted firmly on the thin carpet, those faded jeans becoming tighter around his legs the further up his thighs my eyes travel, that jutting, bobbing, dripping shaft, his massive chest with its fine haze of fur heaving in anticipation, his eyes—

Oh fuck, his eyes—what is that look? I’ve never seen that kinda look before…

I think he’s more ready for me than I am for him.

He lunges—wait, what? Dude, no lemme prepare myself—no wait stop for fuck’s sake use some lube don’t just hawk up phlegm on my ass get something to—

There’s nothing else right now, nothing else in my universe but this huge, powerful man fucking me brutally in the ass. The weight of his muscles pressing down on me, his fur scratching me as his body slides over mine on a film of our mingled sweat, the waves of manscent and pheromones exuded by his body as he pins me down and reams out my colon—this is all there is.

But he’s stopped. He’s not driving in any further, oh thank you Jesus. I can’t take any more.

I can’t speak. I’m too full of cock. My sphincter has already collapsed under the onslaught of his shaft, but I’m afraid to move. Fuck oh fuck he’s so huge inside me if he moves at all he’s gonna tear me he’s gonna make me bleed please no dude…

Then he speaks.

“Almost all the way in, motherfucker. Ya likin’ it? I ain’t even started fuckin’ ya yet. And I gotta special happy ending for ya—don’t worry, faggot, you ain’t ever gonna cum harder than you’re gonna tonight!”

I can feel his hands gripping my wrists and forcing my arms back above my head on the bed

I can feel his scuffed square-toed shitkickers scraping against my socks and lower calves

I can feel every inch of the hot hard man as he painfully violates my body and I love it I love the fucking and the thrusting and even the pain that sharp spearing agony hurts so fucking good

He sees it. He knows, and I know he knows. Good. He knows I’ll give him whatever he wants for the sake of his load. It’ll make him happy—and I want this hot as fuck stud to be happy.

Except it’s not. What’s wrong? Why is he looking at me like that? The contempt was sexy, but this is—is—what? It’s not hate; it’s too erotic for that; what the fuck is going on?

He lets go of my wrists and rises up somewhat, looking down on me. He’s still pumping my ass, fuck yeah—it hurts, oh god it hurts so bad but I’m falling in with his rhythm. Why is he looking at me like that? What is he

His hands oh shit what the fuck dude get ‘em off I can’t breathe what the fuck are you doing

Dude no get off what the fuck off me let go why are your hands around my throat what what’s that

“Time to die, faggot. You worthless homo bitches always fall for the Craigslist ads and the motel hookups. You stupid piece of shit, you make it so easy. Just another useless queer gettin’ raped and strangled in a motel room. Yeah, you heard me, cunt. You’re dying. I’m gonna kill ya. So c’mon and fight it, cocksucker—you’re gonna lose, but your struggle is gonna jack me off so good!”

What the fuck he’s killing me so he can cum what OH SHIT HE’S GONNA FUCKIN’ KILL ME THIS PSYCHO IS GONNA STRANGLE ME TO DEATH

No no no no get the fuck off me I gotta get away gotta get away I can’t his rod is impaling my ass pinning me to the bed like I’ve been speared

air air no air oh my god GET OFF GET OFF I CAN STILL FEEL YOU IN ME FUCK DUDE NO WHY WHY I JUST WANTED YOUR LOAD

it hurts so fucking bad his hands are tightening like a vise I can’t pull them away he’s too strong higher maybe

his chest his hard heaving chest no get off beat against it fuck like beating a brick wall no fuck this can’t be happening oh god oh fuck oh please no beat and slap and thrash just GET THE FUCK OFF OH FUCKING HELL PLEASE OH GOD NO

his face his eyes claw claw make him stop rough steel wool that’s his scruff his stubble on his cheeks oh fuck those cold blue eyes

they’re not cold anymore hot hot with bloodlust he wants me to die

oh shit still on me and in me I can’t break free he fills me utterly

the pain the pressure my throat my chest my head my dick what the fuck why is my dick so hard

he’s still squeezing my throat as he thrusts that massive shaft up my colon crunching pain what the fuck

NO NO NO BEAT AND FLAIL GET OFF NOW I CAN’T THE PAIN DUDE YOUR COCK SWELLING IN MY ASS OH FUCK MY CHEST

what’s happening was gonna meet a friend for coffee after wasn’t supposed to die tonight just looking for a quick fuck why why

a vacuum I’m trying to breathe in a vacuum fight try harder keep going harder air if I try hard enough I can breathe I know it forget about the man holding you down and traumatizing your colon just breathe asshole you can do it

NO I CAN’T NO AIR PAIN HIS HANDS ARE STILL SQUEEZING I CAN’T PRY THEM OFF HE’S SPTTING IN MY FACE

“Die, you cocksucking faggot, die with my dick up your disgusting homo fuckhole, you worthless fucking cunt, yeah? Huh? Ain’t no one gonna care about yer useless cumslurping ass gettin’ offed, huh? Ya like that? C’mon, cunt, fight for it, fight for the air. Work the spunk outta my shaft as you die so your death ain’t a total waste of flesh, you piece of shit!”